Heero Yuy and the Frisbee of Doom
by waterlilylf
Summary: When Heero's out running at the local park, the last thing he expects is to be targeted by an attack Frisbee - and its very attractive owner. 1 x 2 get together. Yaoi.


Disclaimer: I don't own the Gundam Wing characters. Or a Frisbee…

Note: This is for Dyna, for her birthday, along with many thanks for ideas and inspiration. Thanks to KS for all the edits.

**Heero Yuy and the Frisbee of Doom:**

'Need to take a little break, Yuy?' The words are solicitous enough, but the tone is taunting and there's an evil light glittering in Trowa's one visible eye. The asshole has actually slowed down to glance backwards over his shoulder.

'Screw you, Barton.' On the flat, he can usually beat Trowa, but his friend runs cross country and his longer legs are capable of eating up the hills.

'You wouldn't have the energy for it,' Trowa teases, and then is off at a sprint.

Heero pulls in one deep breath, holding it, and takes after him. He's a few steps behind as they crest the hill; it's easier as the path levels off. He shadows Trowa, getting his breath back. Trowa's not teasing any more, not even looking back, and a little smile of satisfaction settles on Heero's mouth, sure now he's going to win.

They've been competitive since they first met, two seven-year-olds determined to win all the races at a birthday party and scoop the grand prize of a big box of chocolates, and it's still a part of their relationship. The jackpot isn't chocolates today; the loser pays for Saturday night dinner. In theory, the winner chooses where. In practice, they almost always go to the same Mexican place, although Trowa's been talking about a newly opened restaurant by the harbour.

Trowa puts on a spurt, hearing his friend's footsteps getting closer, and Heero lets him draw ahead, lets him tire himself out. Some things haven't changed in almost two decades; Trowa never gets the importance of conserving energy for that one last push.

He spares Trowa a look as he passes him, returning the mocking little grin from earlier. 'Need a minute to catch your breath?'

The expression on Trowa's face gives him the impetus to pull even farther ahead, and he's smiling broadly as he leaves the woods, running into the open meadow beyond. Just a quick downhill dash to the car park and that's it. Trowa's won the last two times and been unbearable as a result.

He's still smiling as something, travelling very fast, bangs into his left knee; off balance, on the uneven, sloping ground, it's impossible to find his balance and he falls hard.

'Heero?' Trowa is standing over him, offering him a hand. 'You OK?'

'Yeah.' Heero struggles upright, stretching carefully, and then rests his hands on his knees, breathing deeply. 'What the _fuck_ just happened?'

'Some stupid kid throwing a frisbee,' Trowa says sourly, and then his voice changes as he looks around. 'Oh. Big kid, actually. Well, now.'

'I'm sorry,' a voice gasps, breathy. 'Really. Shit! Sorry. Are you OK?'

He's fine, apart from a bit of skin scraped on one leg. That's not the point. 'This is a running trail,' he says coldly. 'Those sorts of throwing games are prohibited near the track. There are notices.'

'Oh! It was an accident, and I'm trying to apologise and…'

'Most accidents are avoidable.' Heero straightens up, glaring. He'd been expecting a gormless teenager; the man facing him is probably in his early twenties, just a few years younger than Heero himself. Old enough to know better. 'If people bother to have a modicum of consideration for others.'

Frisbee Guy's face changes, settling into a glare that probably mirrors Heero's own. 'I said I was sorry, OK? And it wouldn't have happened if you'd been looking where you were going!'

Trowa, at his side, makes a sound that's suspiciously like a snicker, and dies immediately when the other two swivel to glare at him. There's still a definite gleam in one green eye, though.

The guy takes a couple of steps to collect his Frisbee – a ridiculous thing, dark grey and covered with little black bats – and then stalks off, that ludicrous rope of hair swaying against his backside.

_Idiot. _

Heero walks a few paces, testing his knee and then settles into an easy jog.

'You know,' Trowa muses, pacing him. 'There are times when I wonder when someone like you – smart and successful and moderately easy on the eyes – is single, and then I actually watch you interacting with another member of the human race and it all becomes painfully clear.'

'I don't know what you're blathering about,' Heero says crossly.

'Duh. Hot guy falling over himself to apologise to you for some stupid accident and you freeze him out.'

'He wasn't hot.' All right, that's a lie. 'All that hair was ridiculous.'

'Ah. Noticed the hair, did you?' Trowa asks, smug. 'Happen to notice those eyes as well? And the very sweet ass and the legs all the way up to his neck? Shit, Yuy. You could've been totally in there and instead you had to chase him off.'

'You're being absurd,' Heero snaps. For all Trowa carries on like he's James Bond, he's just as single as Heero is. More actually, since Trowa's in the market for someone. 'If you liked him so much, why didn't you make a move on him?'

Trowa snorts. 'Yeah, right. Like I'd have had a chance after you'd had a go at him. Anyway, he wasn't really my type. The blond was cute though.'

Heero opens his mouth to ask _who? _and then vaguely remembers. There had been a blond guy standing a few steps behind the Frisbee's owner. He hadn't paid him any attention.

They jog to the car park in silence. 'One circuit of the bike trail?' Heero asks as they walk up to Trowa's jeep.

Trowa shrugs. 'I might leave it. I've got to go over some case notes for tomorrow morning.'

'What case? You never said.' They don't work in the same departments at Romfeller, but they usually know what the other is working on. Trowa hasn't mentioned anything urgent.

'Just something Treize asked me to look at this afternoon.' He gives Heero a tetchy little shake of his head. 'How will you get home?'

'A thing called a bike. You know, pedals, two wheels, saddle to sit on.'

Trowa laughs aloud at that, whatever was irritating him apparently gone. Probably pissed that he has to go home and work, Heero reasons. 'You're actually planning to use your bike as a mere means of transportation?' He helps Heero unload Wing from the carrier, and waves as he drives off.

Heero settles into the saddle. He doesn't mind running; it's a good work-out, and the physical exertion frees his brain to think about other things. He _loves_ cycling, though; loves the feeling of his perfectly tuned bike under him, loves how speeding downhill feels like flying, almost; a perfect partnership of man and machine.

It's as good as sex, most of the time.

He blinks at the thought - where the hell had _that_ come from? – and his brain immediately supplies a visual of that infuriating man with his stupid Frisbee. He'd been hot, like Trowa had said.

He'd been an inconsiderate idiot, and it's entirely wrong that the image of him bending to pick up that bloody Frisbee – tight, worn denim straining over that perfect, peachy ass – is burned into Heero's memory.

Heero trails a young girl on a tricycle and a slightly older boy on a bike with training wheels, attended by their parents. This is his favourite time of day; the sun's just starting to set, so it's cool, and most of the kids and families have already left, headed for homework and dinner, so the trails are starting to empty, save for a few serious cyclists.

And this ridiculously inept family of wannabee cyclists. He grits his teeth, slowing to the point where he's hardly moving, and then relaxes, watching the little boy wobble as he tries to keep up with his dad. He remembers this, remembers Odin taking him for his first bike ride when he was just a toddler.

_He'd_ been taught to be considerate though; not like some people, thinking they could treat the entire park as their personal playground for their stupid, childish games, and then charm their way out of any criticism with a smile like a sunburst.

Damn it.

He's single and happy enough about it most of the time. He has a demanding job, and an equally demanding training schedule, and a few good friends. It's more than enough. One day, naturally, he'll meet the right person, and it won't be a grinning idiot who's apparently obsessed with bats. The little earring had been rather charming though; a tiny bat, wings outstretched, stark black against pale skin.

All right, now he's starting to get irritated with this supremely annoying family who don't even have the courtesy to pull aside to let him pass. Instead, he swings his bike left, off the trail. He can cut across the meadow and join the trail a bit further on.

That's the plan, any way; cycling on the grass is lovely, tyres floating over the soft surface, the rays of the setting sun the ideal temperature on his face. It's perfect until somebody shouts at him, too late, and then something just _scrunches_ under his front wheel.

The _something_ is all too familiar; two somethings now, as it's cracked in two. And, far worse, the sharp edge has ripped his front tyre.

'Hey! You broke my Frisbee!' It's him again, naturally. That absurd braid bounces up and down as its owner runs up to Heero, and he can't help wondering how it would feel to slide his hand down it; how it would feel loose. 'What _is_ it with you? Are you on some sort of Frisbee-destroying mission, or is it just me you're out to get?'

'Maybe you shouldn't keep throwing it around like that.'

That gets him a fierce look. 'That's kind of the _point_, you ass. Don't you ever actually look where you're going? That was totally your fault. And I expect you to get me a new one.'

'My bike tyres,' Heero says icily, 'are hand sewn in Germany, and imported to Sanque. This one is ruined. Do you have any idea how much they cost? I hardly think a plastic toy compares.'

Those blue eyes – violet, almost, in the softly fading light – narrow at him. 'If you seriously have nothing better to spend your money on, then that's your business. _And_, for your information, my Frisbee is customised and I had to order it on the internet.'

'You have nothing better to do than order toys on the internet?' Heero gibes back, and bends to examine his poor, torn front tyre. There are two long, jagged rips. Damnation. 'And can you stop staring at my ass?'

'It's worth staring at.' Unfazed, Frisbee Guy grins at him. 'Specially when you're showing it off in those spandex shorts.' His grin wavers, slightly, as Heero doesn't respond. 'Right, this is when I seriously hope you're gay, or at least not overly homophobic. Should I start running now?'

'I'm not homophobic, no.' He runs his finger over the back tyre, checking for damage caused by flying Frisbee fragments. It seems OK.

'Can you fix it? The front one?'

'I can patch it, probably. It won't be good enough for races, though.' Heero stands up and snaps his fingers in Frisbee Guy's face. 'My eyes are actually up here, in case you haven't noticed.'

That gets him a cheeky grin. 'Maybe it's not your _eyes_ I want to look at.' He lets his gaze drift upwards. 'Oh, well, maybe I do at that. Blue. Nice. You ever smile?'

'No.' He's biting his lips to stop himself though because, seriously, this guy is impossible. Destroying an expensive piece of property, and then _ogling_ him, and now flirting. Instead, he turns on his heel and heads back for the car park, wheeling his bike carefully. He smiles faintly as he hears the other man's footsteps behind him.

'Hey, I'm Duo. Do you have a name? Or do I just call you Blue?'

'Why do you need to call me anything?'

In answer, two Frisbee halves are thrust under his nose. 'You broke this. You owe me.'

'You damaged a very expensive piece of cycling equipment. I'd say that makes us even.'

'Are you a professional cyclist, then?'

'No. I would ask if you're a professional Frisbee thrower but you're very obviously not.'

'And you're very obviously an asshole,' Duo snaps back.

'Well, you've apparently been studying it quite closely. Without complaining.'

'Like I said, it's well worth looking at. So, that guy you were with before. He's your boyfriend?'

'No.'

Duo mutters a curse. '_Seriously_? You're going to make me do all the running here?'

'Quite possibly.' He stops, turning to look at the other man, enjoying the look on his face. His eyes are stormy, but that lovely, lush mouth is compressed into a thin, cross line. He wants, suddenly, to kiss it, to tease the lips into a smile, to nip and then soothe it with his tongue. He wants to run one hand down the braid, and then throw away the stupid hair tie. 'My name's Heero.'

'Destroyer of innocent Frisbees, yeah.'

Heero grins. 'It was suicide. It threw itself under my wheels. Poor thing, I ended its suffering.'

'Maybe it was just looking for attention.' Duo slants him a little, sidelong grin. 'Maybe it wasn't asking to be crushed like a bug. Maybe it was hoping to get picked up and, I don't know, talked to a little bit.'

'Ah.' One of Duo's hands, somehow, has settled on his handlebars; Heero just has to move his own an inch to cover it. 'I'm afraid I'm rather ignorant of the habits of Frisbees. You may need to fill me in a little as to their requirements.'

'They like being touched.' Duo's hand is warm under his. 'That's the main thing really; they like lots of attention.'

'High maintenance, then,' Heero comments.

'Like you wouldn't believe, yeah.' There's the most adorable, impish smile playing on his mouth. 'Better to know that from the very start, just in case you're thinking about getting one.'

'I see. It _is_ important to do some preliminary research.'

'Totally,' Duo agrees. 'So, I have a pretty beat-up mountain bike at home, but I don't really know anything about pedigree racing ones.'

Heero grins at him. This conversation! He's not exactly practised at chatting up guys – the one area in which he'll willingly cede superiority to Trowa – but he's enjoying this. 'They're very possessive. Very loyal. Not terribly sociable. Extremely focused. Is any of that…Frisbee-compatible?'

'It's good. Actually, I kind of worked some of it out,' Duo agrees. 'The focused thing. Watching you. Um, I've seen you here a few times before, actually. Running or cycling. I thought you had to be some kind of professional athlete.'

'I'm training for the City to Sea triathlon next month.' Duo's been watching him, and he's never noticed. Admittedly, when he's training he probably wouldn't notice an alien spaceship landing a few meters away, but they could have met before, if he'd been paying attention.

'Oh, right. I've a friend who's doing that. Look, it's not like I was stalking you or anything. I just happened to see you a few times, and then I sort of started watching for you whenever I came here in the evenings. Just a bit of eye candy at the start, and then…you just seemed to be a nice guy. You know, you always stop and talk to the old lady who feeds the ducks at the lake, and this one time, you stopped to help a little kid who fell off his bike and was crying, and I thought maybe it'd be nice to talk to you sometime, instead of just watching you.'

A thought strikes him, out of the blue. 'All that Frisbee throwing today, was that on purpose?'

'The first time was totally an accident. It wasn't even me who threw it; it was my friend Quatre. He's got a shit aim.'

_Quatre_. Heero stores the name away; the blond Trowa took a shine too. It might be fun to drop it into the conversation tomorrow, just to see Trowa's face.

'The second time, yeah, it was kind of on purpose. Just couldn't resist, you know? Even if you were a total jerk to me before. I thought I'd give you another chance. You didn't look like you were trying to beat some kind of speed record or whatever, just enjoying a cycle. I didn't think you'd mind too much. I thought you'd stop before you killed my poor baby though.'

'I'm sorry.' Heero stops, reaches over to take the Frisbee halves from Duo's other hand. 'It's a clean break. You could probably glue them back together.'

'Maybe.' Duo shrugs. 'Wouldn't be as aerodynamic though. Plus, the torque forces would bend it along the seam and it would break.'

Heero blinks. 'Duo, it's a toy. It's not a fighter jet.'

'It's the principle. And I meant it when I said you owe me a new one.'

'All right. I will need to know where you live, so I can deliver it.' There, that's smooth enough. Even Trowa couldn't have bettered that. With a shock, he realises that they're walking on tarmac, instead of grass, back at the car park. He hasn't noticed anything other than Duo for the whole walk.

'I might need to think about that. I do have other Frisbees,' Duo says, teasing. Well, Heero hopes he's teasing anyway. 'Not sure if it'd be safe to let you near them.'

'I'd be extremely careful,' Heero says solemnly. They're joking, partly, and partly not. 'Just … tell me the ground rules. But I would promise not to hurt them in any way whatsoever.'

When Duo looks at him, he's smiling, but there's something shadowed behind his eyes as well. 'That would be good. Very fragile things, they are. I, kind of, um, my last relationship didn't end too well, Heero. '

Heero pulls his bike to a halt, and turns, cupping one hand around Duo's chin. 'I would be extremely careful.' He brushes his thumb along Duo's jawline. 'And attentive, if you felt like giving me a chance.'

Oh, God, he wants this, wants Duo to accept. How odd; he's only known him for fifteen minutes or so. Trowa's the one who believes in all that _first sight_ nonsense. Heero believes that relationships are built on solid foundations that take years to establish. Although, he admits to himself, watching Duo, that everything has to start somewhere and they're not doing too badly, so far.

'Yeah.' Duo's voice is very low, but he's turned his face into the caress, and a few loose strands of hair are whispering against Heero's skin. 'The whole _loyal_ thing. I like that. A lot.'

'Good,' Heero whispers back, utterly fixated, _focused_ on Duo's mouth. He's just starting to incline his head when a car starts, far too close. 'Damn.'

'Damn,' Duo echoes. 'Maybe we can … postpone that? For somewhere a bit more private?'

Heero nods obligingly. He wants to find that stupid idiot of a car driver and yell at him. Throw a bloody razor-edged Frisbee through the front window. 'More private. Definitely.' It's probably just as well; it's late enough that there aren't that many people around, but it's still a public place.

'So, where's your car?'

'Oh.' That takes him rushing back to the present. 'I don't have it with me. I was going to cycle home. I can call someone for a lift.'

'I have a truck,' Duo offers. 'I could put your bike in the back and drive you home. If you want.'

'I want,' Heero says quickly, before Duo can change his mind. 'I don't know if you have any plans for later, but maybe you'd let me take you out somewhere for dinner?'

'Sure,' Duo says brightly.

It's that easy.

'Right. What sort of food do you like?' Duo doesn't seem like the sort of person who'd be impressed by gourmet restaurants; Heero isn't either, come to that; never seeing the point of paying such inflated prices.

'Pretty much anything. I'm easy.' He catches the sudden gleam in Heero's eye and shakes his head. 'Dream on, Heero. Not _that_ sort of easy. Above the neck action on the first few dates only.'

'No problem.' It's not. He's not into rushing things – not normally; this might be different – but he'll be happy once he gets to kiss Duo.

'Well, aren't you Mr. Perfect.' Duo's eyes are wide, watching him. 'Shit, I don't even know your surname.'

'Yuy.' Carefully, he props the bike against a tree, and offers Duo his hand. 'It's very nice to meet you.'

Duo laughs, taking it. 'Duo Maxwell. It's nice to meet you too, Heero Yuy.'

'Isn't it?' He doesn't release Duo's hand and he doesn't pull away. The palm is rough under his; Duo's not someone who sits in an office all day. The skin on his wrist and arm is marked with a myriad of scratches. 'Do you have a very sadistic cat?'

'Oh, no. It's my job. I'm a tree surgeon. I spent most of today pruning these rose brushes and they fought the hell back.'

'Don't you wear gloves?' He wants to kiss every scratch, to run his tongue down the inside of Duo's wrist, dip it in the crook of his elbow.

'Yeah, usually. But these were like, really ancient, rare varieties. The guy was terrified I'd mess up somehow.'

Heero turns his hand over; there's one long, red mark bisecting his palm. 'I suppose you'd rather I didn't buy you roses then?'

'Never want to see a damn rose again, nope,' Duo agrees. 'Chocolates would be good though.'

'I'll remember that.' They both fall silent as two girls walk past, towing a reluctant collie to their car. He's still holding Duo's hand. 'I've never met a tree surgeon before. Do you like it?'

'Best job in the world!' Duo enthuses. 'I love trees and I get to be outdoors all day, playing with power tools. Hey, come on, if you've to do a job, you might as well do something you're passionate about, right? What do you do?'

'I'm a lawyer.' He waits for the inevitable abuse, but Duo just looks interested. 'I don't know if I'm passionate, exactly, but it's fascinating. I work mainly with copyright, that sort of thing. There are so many grey areas right now, with so much information available on the internet.'

'Sounds cool,' Duo agrees, and then frowns. 'Hey, are you cold?'

'Not really,' Heero lies. He is, of course; they're standing in the shade of a tree, and it's cool now that the sun's gone down, and he's just wearing a tank top and shorts. Only his hand, holding Duo's, is warm. He doesn't want to move, though.

'Yeah, you are,' Duo objects. 'I'm parked over there. Come on. You're cold and I'm starving and you did promise me dinner.'

'OK.' He likes the way they fall into step together, naturally, the bike between them. Duo's about his height, not ridiculously tall like Trowa or Zechs. 'Do you like Mexican food?'

'Totally. I could live on guacamole and sour cream for the rest of my natural life.' His tongue sneaks out and slides along his lower lip.

Heero watches, fascinated, incredibly turned on, thankful he's wearing one of his baggier t-shirts. He has to swallow, a couple of times, before speaking. And take a couple of deep breaths. Right, that's their destination settled. Now, just the logistics of the evening to work out.

'OK. I don't know about you, but I need to shower and change first.'

Duo grins. 'Yeah. Me too, I guess. D'you want me to drop you off at your place and then we can meet up at the restaurant? Say, eightish?'

'Eight's fine, but I asked you out. I'll pick you up.'

'Oh. Right.' Duo looks a bit surprised at the offer. 'You don't have to do that.'

'Yes, I do, actually. And whatever happened to you being high maintenance?'

'That was kind of a joke.'

'Too late now,' Heero says cheerfully, delighted with himself, with everything. He can stop and buy Duo a box of chocolates on the drive to his house; if he has enough time, he might go on line and find the most aerodynamic Frisbee in the universe.

'You just want to find out where I live. Probably so you can come over and do awful things to my Frisbees.'

'That's my evil plan, yes.

'One major flaw there,' Duo notes. 'I'm dropping you home first. I can always come round to our place and get revenge.'

'Hn. I'm not sure if that's a flaw, really. I'd like you to come to my house.' He means it. 'Not tonight obviously, but maybe at the weekend. I could make dinner.'

'Heero, that'd be great. Seriously. Ah, this is where I'm parked. I don't know; d'you want to sit in the cab with me or sit in the back and hold your bike's pedals on the trip?'

'I'll sit in the front, thank you very much. If you promise to drive carefully.'

'I'll try. Provided you don't go distracting me or anything,' Duo teases, and then leans over and brushes his mouth over Heero's. 'No doing anything like this when I'm driving.'

It's intoxicating, that sweet slide of Duo's lips on his. Duo is smiling when he draws back, lips still slightly parted and that emboldens Heero enough to reach out and pull Duo into his arms.

'I'd better get it over with here and now then,' he says. He doesn't rush the kiss; there's no reason to. He has one hand wrapped around that glorious braid, and it feels just as soft and seductive as he'd imagined. The fingers of his other hand are tracing Duo's jawline, tilting his face up.

Duo's lips part this time at the first dart of Heero's tongue and he suddenly has that lovely body moulded to his.

It's perfect.

It's not entirely effective as a means of eliminating possible distractions though. He can't imagine not wanting to kiss Duo again, as often and as thoroughly as possible. He wants to play Frisbee with him; take him to his favourite restaurant; introduce Duo to his cat, his friends.

If they can't fix the damn bat-Frisbee well enough to play with, they can have it framed, hang it over the bed.


End file.
